


picture imperfect

by intoapuddle, jestbee



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Anal Sex, BDSM, D/s, Depression, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, M/M, Restraints, Spanking, mental health
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2020-01-23 23:48:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18559600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intoapuddle/pseuds/intoapuddle, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jestbee/pseuds/jestbee
Summary: He knows Dan hates to be patient. What he wants is for Phil to get on with it, to overwhelm him with sensation so much that he can no longer think about all the expectations he's failing to fulfill. But Phil knows better.





	picture imperfect

His fingers thread through the short brown hair at the nape of Dan’s neck. A slight stir beneath his fingertips, until the head pushes into the touch. Phil keeps it gentle and barely-there, nudging Dan from the in-between of sleep and consciousness.

HIs skin is warm under Phil's fingers. A cocoon of blankets lay in waves over the curves of his body and he hasn't stirred since this morning. The sun at the window is hidden behind a thick pair of grey curtains and the room is shrouded in a thick, humid darkness, silent and still. 

Phil is sitting up, back against the headboard, watching Dan shift with the movement of his hand. A small whistling noise fills the air as breaths change from long and even when they catch upon waking. Phil lets his knuckles caress the back of Dan’s head, along the shape of his skull.

A noise pushes up out of Dan's throat. His eyelids flicker, the soft fan of his lashes against the freckles on his cheekbone stuttering. Phil looks down, ready and waiting for the moment that Dan's eyes open, focussing their honeyed irises on him, round and waiting. 

“Phil?” comes low and sleep-rough as Dan slowly turns his head and looks up at him.

Phil pulls his hand away, just an inch from Dan, and is rewarded with Dan rolling closer and settling his cheek against it. He looks small like this, barely awake and vulnerable in the palm of Phil’s hand.

"You've been asleep," Phil says, fingers curling against Dan's skin, trailing his fingertip along one cheekbone, down to the corner of his mouth. 

Dan nods, warm air huffing through parted lips, his tongue swiping out against chapped, cracked skin. 

“Mmh,” Dan responds, eyes shutting once again.

Phil presses at his cheek, a gentle demand for attention. Dan sighs, patience coming to a stop, as he looks back up with a put upon expression painting his features.

"Did you want something?" Dan asks. 

Phil cocks his head, withdrawing his hand even as Dan chases it, a short aborted motion that Phil doesn't think he means to make. 

"Just to see how you are," Phil says. "It's the middle of the afternoon. You haven't been up all day." 

Dan keeps staring at Phil’s hand, now placed on his lap, another vocal sigh escaping his lips.

“Phil,” he whispers, so quietly.

Phil swallows, feeling the beginning of something tingle at the tips of his fingers. Dan spent most of yesterday scrolling, looking up with grey-lilac circles under his eyes some time in the late evening, and a deflated expression on his face. He looked defeated, beaten down by the expectations of so many. Now, he looks like he's waged that war and come out the other side in need of restoration. 

Phil knows how to change that. To take him all the way down and back up again. 

Phil lifts two fingers, his index and the middle one, and slides them across his own thigh to where Dan's head is resting, breathing slowly. He pushes the pads of his fingers past the wet seam of Dan's lips and down into the pink, silky inside of his mouth. 

Dan’s jaw goes slack at first, simply letting Phil explore. He pushes down on his tongue, slippery and warm, until Dan licks up the backs of the knuckles and closes his lips around them. Phil releases a long breath. Dan pushes the top of his head against his crotch as he sucks, eyes falling shut. Phil pulls them out, slowly until Dan releases the pressure around them and he creates a line of spit along the smooth skin of his cheek. Phil brings his hand down to cup his jaw, tightening his hold. He tilts his chin up until Dan’s neck is exposed and he’s facing him, eyes opening, searching.

“What do you need?” Phil asks, releasing his hold slightly.

Dan hums and Phil feels the vibration against his hand, every breath coming out short in anticipation.

“Phil,” Dan simply says, again, words already failing him.

Maybe they’ve gone without this for too long this time around.

“Tell me,” Phil whispers.

Dan's eyes are lidded and glassy. Phil pushes his thumb against the treacle-slow thud of Dan's pulse, already sliding into a relaxed rhythm. He's so far gone already, pliant and lovely like he always is, but Phil knows there is something to be patient for yet. 

"All of it," Dan says. "I want…"

His words fade away and he shakes his head a little, sliding skin over Phil's palm. He's seen Dan like this before, multiple times, when the thoughts rushing in his head come in twos and threes, none of them staying long enough to find resolution but all of them pushing at him over and over. It's that overwhelming cacophony that he needs to stop, to quiet the riot inside his head, replace it with something different, something quieter. 

"I've got you," Phil says, a soft shushing sound following after. "On your knees for me, hm?" 

There’s no hesitation before Dan turns to sit up. For a moment he stalls, and Phil watches the muscles on his back shift beneath the thin material of the black t-shirt covering it. Phil waits, and without a word Dan pulls the t-shirt off over his head. He turns around, eyes growing alert from the change in position. He keeps them on Phil’s, like they’ve practiced before, and Dan gets on his knees on the middle of the bed.

Phil is about to get up when Dan tilts forward, forehead falling to the mattress and arms stretching out to clasp his hands together right in front of his head. He’s going ten miles per hour, ahead of himself, be it the rushing of his mind or the contrast of asleep to awake, Phil can’t know. He smacks his lips, getting up to stand beside the bed and watch.

“On your knees,” Phil says, voice growing sterner. “No messing about.”

Dan whines pathetically, keeping his position.

“I’ll tell you one more time, Daniel,” he instructs. “Yeah?”

Dan mumbles something incoherent into the mattress. Phil takes it as confirmation.

“On. Your. Knees.”

Dan sits up, back straight and eyes fixed on the wall. His hands are still clasped together but now resting on his lap, anxiously twisting together. Phil hums, nodding to himself.

“Good,” he says. “You’re being good, Dan.”

Dan sighs, the muscles in his shoulders unfurling, a ripple of relaxation making its way down his spine. 

"So eager to please," Phil says, stepping closer, pushing his fingers back into the hair at the nape of Dan's neck like he had when he'd woken him. "Anticipating what it is I might ask next, rather than listening to what I asked you to do in the first place." 

He tightens his grip, just a fraction, and Dan's breath hitches. He keeps his eyes on the wall but Phil can tell he's having trouble doing it. 

"Are you going to listen?" Phil asks. 

Dan nods, his head tugging at Phil's hand, the soft waves of his hair, just a touch too long, curling over Phil's fingers. 

"Good," Phil says. "That's good."

Phil’s hand travels down along his back inside the dip of his spine, light and torturous. Dan shudders, long eyelashes dancing as blinks in quick succession.

“So squirmy today,” Phil muses, his hand going back up the same line from the small of his back. “Probably have to make you keep still, hm?”

He waits, hand going still and flattening between Dan’s shoulderblades. He applies some pressure, lightly, knowing any more will cause Dan to tip over again, so eager to get pushed down.

“Yes,” Dan says, quick and breathy, eyes trained on a spot on the wall. “Please.”

“I thought so,” Phil nods, holding back just a little bit not to give in to Dan’s needs immediately.

He wants to, sometimes. Even if slow and steady is the winning combination for Dan in most situations, the trembling in his muscles and the hitch of his breath when he’s this ready to go under makes Phil want to give it all to him just as immediately as Dan thinks he wants it. Phil takes a step back, taking a moment to check so that Dan stays in position, before he bends down to pull the chest from under their bed.

“Hands behind your back,” Phil says, like a passing thought, the phrase so commonly used that saying it out loud nowadays is almost excessive.

Dan eases his hands backwards, crossing one wrist over the other against the dip of his back, coming to rest just above the waistband of his boxers. He makes a pretty picture, waiting like that. Sometimes he wants to truss him up like this and just look at him, pause the moment to play back when he's alone. 

He has, before now, made his wait much longer than he's going to today. Today Dan needs more than the silence in which his brain might start up. He needs a distraction. 

The chest has any number of items inside it, but Phil knows exactly what he's looking for. First is the black length of silk he takes between his fingers, pulling it free where it's folded in the corner, letting it ribbon down onto the bed beside Dan's knee. 

Dan glances down at it, licks his lips, and catches Phil's eye. 

"Looking at the wall," Phil reminds him, even though Dan knows the rules for this beginning part by heart by now. 

Dan corrects his position, chest starting to flush, rising and falling a little faster. 

Next, Phil seeks out the worn leather handle to their favourite paddle. It's supple from the years of use, light enough that when Phil adds it to his hand it warms almost immediately to his touch. It's smooth and thin, but bendy enough that it makes a swishing sound through the air and lands with a sharp snap, leaving a tight, hard sting. It doesn't bruise, and the black silk doesn't bite into Dan's wrists. None of this is designed to leave anything behind but a faint ache the next day, a reminder when Dan moves, but nothing visual. 

Not this time. 

Phil sets the paddle aside for now. Before he pushes the chest back under the bed with the tip of his foot he grabs a bottle of lube on impulse. Then he reaches for Dan's wrists, snug against the small of his back. 

Dan is a practised hand at this now. He maneuvers his hands to allow Phil access, letting him loop the silk in the precise directions he always uses, attaching one wrist to the other with little room for movement. Dan levers one shoulder, tugging gently on the fastening as if testing its limits. 

"Ah ah," Phil admonishes, "be good." 

Dan drops his chin to his chest, hair falling in a soft wave against his forehead. His skin is rosy now, a soft patch on his cheek a delicate pink to match the rest of him.

Phil runs a hand across his bound wrists, the flat of his palm gliding up Dan's spine once again before finally applying the right pressure to tip Dan forward slowly. 

"Now," Phil says as Dan goes forward under his hand. "Down." 

At first, Dan holds back. He goes slowly forward, already a big difference from the urgency when he first got on his knees. Pride blooms inside Phil’s chest, watching the careful nature in which Dan at first lets himself be pushed. He’s being good, eyes keeping still and not looking back at him, and that’s when Phil decides to push harder.

Dan goes with the movement, quick and rough, the mattress giving a small squeak as Dan’s cheek collides with it. Phil pushes down further once Dan is in position, causing him to arch his ass up. Phil feels the evenness in his breath against his hand, how they slow and how the tight muscles relax just a little bit.

When he looks down at his face, Dan’s eyes meet his. They’re already shining, going back to how they looked when he was heavy with sleep and compliant with every one of Phil’s touches. Phil allows himself to indulge. He reaches down, thumb moving over Dan’s closed lips until they open, sucking gratefully at him.

“Pretty,” Phil praises, caught in the moment.

Dan licks at him inside his mouth, hooded eyes right on Phil's as he sighs audibly.

“So pretty for me,” Phil says.

He pulls the thumb out with a wet pop, and Dan smiles, faint and relaxed but more present in his eyes than many of the big toothy ones he makes when he thinks he has to.

“What do you do when you want to stop?” Phil asks, eyes steady on Dan’s face.

Dan blinks rapidly three times, pulled into the situation.

“I say ‘stop’,” he responds immediately, voice even and clear.

Phil nods.

“Good,” he says.

He moves to his behind, getting up on his knees on top of the bed. Dan wriggles a little bit, always making a fuss when he can no longer see Phil’s face. One touch to his thigh makes him go still, pliant yet again, as Phil stands on his knees right behind him and curls his fingers around the waistband of his boxers. The muscles in Dan’s ass cheeks tense as Phil pulls them down. They stop at the bend of his knees and Phil lets them stay there, the added restraint making Dan an even prettier picture before him.

Phil reaches out, cupping his hand around the curve of Dan's ass and squeezing gently, just enough to force a tiny, quiet noise from Dan's throat. 

"Responsive," Phil notes, and Dan wriggles yet again, as if telling him to get on with it. 

Phil lands a short, sharp slap on one cheek for good measure, goosebumps erupting in its wake. 

Phil pulls his own shirt over his head, exposing his skin to the cool air of the room. Dan's body is still warm from the sheets, and Phil can feel it radiating off him, more and more so as he gets worked up, straining for Phil to do something. 

Phil slips the paddle into his hand and Dan must sense it's happening because there is another soft whine. 

"Ready?" Phil says. 

Dan hums, pressing his cheek into the mattress more tightly, arching his back, presenting his ass like the prize that it is. A ready and waiting participant. 

“Use your words,” Phil prompts. “Yes or no. Are you ready, Dan?”

Dan clears his throat, ass coming back to an excited wiggle.

“Yes,” he responds.

“Good,” Phil says, splaying one firm hand over an ass cheek to stop the movement, “then let’s begin.”

He shifts to situate himself at Dan’s side and reaches for the paddle. He feels the leather warm quickly in his hand, and he graces the edge of it against Dan’s calf. The muscle goes tight immediately. Dan sucks in an audible breath.

“Please,” he whines in a tight voice. “Oh, please, Phil..!”

“Shh,” Phil shushes him, his free hand coming to rest gentle at the middle of his back, pushing to counteract the still smooth movement of the paddle. “It’s coming. I’ll take care of you.”

Dan’s whines stop at that, returning to the impatient short breaths that Phil accepts. He lets the paddle smooth up the back of Dan’s thigh until it reaches his ass cheek. He holds it still there, pushing hard and releasing, a precursor to what’s about to happen.

They’ve done this enough times for Phil to know Dan doesn’t want the warning. The surprise of the first impact is part of it, it adds to it, and after a few excruciating pushes of the paddle as Dan’s breaths get rapid he pulls it back and swings it down in quick succession, a loud _smack_ filling the silence as Dan makes a choked noise.

Phil doesn't linger. As Dan's skin turns pink and flushed where the paddle came down, Phil is already gearing up again. The paddle sings through the air, a rushing noise as it comes down again on the opposite cheek with an audible snap. 

Dan's choked breath turns into a moan, and Phil can see him grow hard between his legs. 

Phil lands three more blows, one after the other. He places them in varying spots across Dan's ass, a random pattern so that Dan never knows where the next one will land. 

Dan is panting, pulling away in one moment and pushing back into Phil's touch the next. The paddle is hot against Phil's palm and it cracks like a gunshot each time Phil brings it down. Dan strains forward, a litany of 'please' and 'Phil' running from his mouth, rumbled and incoherent. 

He doesn't think Dan knows exactly what he's begging for, just that he wants more. 

Phil places another blow at the join of Dan's thigh and the high pitched sound Dan makes is enough to makes Phil's dick strain against his own pants. Dan is hot and hard now, the tip of his dick glistening with precome as he squeezes his thighs together, trying to get some release to the thing Phil is building within him. 

"Ah ah," Phil says, pushing the paddle into the space where Dan has clamped his legs together, eases them apart with the push of hot, sweaty leather. "Stop that." 

Dan moans, low and rough at first and building higher and breathier as he complies. Phil holds the paddle back in preparation for another strike.

“Think you can take a few more?” he asks, far gone in the moment as he stares down at the pretty pink marks covering Dan.

Dan whines, wiggling his ass, and Phil smacks the paddle against him. Not as hard as before, just a lighter impact as warning.

“Words, Dan,” he reminds him.

“I can take more,” he babbles, straining to keep still. “Please. Give me more.”

They’re right at the edge that Phil always has to keep wary of, despite how hard he is and how filthy and beautiful Dan looks and sounds. He can’t push it too far, but he can’t go too easy on him, either. Dan has a hard time distinguishing the difference between pleasure and pain at this threshold, so Phil has to.

He steadies him once again with the hand on his back.

“Slow down,” Phil says. “You’re good.”

Dan takes a few shallow breaths and Phil waits until they go deeper before he releases the pressure from his back. It’s all the indication Dan needs. He willingly spreads his legs and arches up. His cock bobs between his legs and he drips onto the sheets. Phil moans under his breath, and then he strikes Dan hard with the paddle.

Dan moves with it, as if they’re thrusts. Phil gives a few more rhythmic smacks, slowing down as Dan moans, spluttering incoherent pleas.

He’s shaking when Phil tosses the paddle, one hand coming to squeeze over the areas affected. Dan breathes long and hard, pushing into the touch even though it hurts. He’s so warm beneath his hand, red fading into pink and going back to angry red once Phil’s put his hand on it again. It’s delicious to watch.

“Fuck, you’re hot,” Phil says, voice coated with genuine appreciation. “You’re so good for me, Dan.”

Dan sighs, becoming pliant underneath him contrast to how hard he still is between his legs. Phil’s hand moves to feel between the cheeks, fingers moving past and catching at the hole. Dan’s breath hitches immediately, pushing back against the feeling.

“You want me to fuck you now, huh?” Phil asks, voice going low as he stalls by Dan’s hole.

“Yes,” Dan answers, for once remembering his words. “Do whatever you want with me. Use me.”

Phil lets his hand travel further down. He feels at the soft, tender skin of Dan’s ballsack and earns a melodic moan of relief. He wraps his hand around his cock in a loose grip, just a few movements in reward as Dan goes silent, only huffs of breaths coming from him as his hips automatically start to jerk into Phil’s hand.

Phil doesn't let it go on too long, but he loves watching Dan like this. Needy and uncontrolled, far from whatever it was in his head that had been plaguing him before this, spun out, brought down. 

Dan isn't thinking about the thousands of tweets he scrolled past yesterday, he isn't thinking about how he's disappointing all of them by not posting, or not posting what they want. He's thinking about Phil, about how Phil's hand feels on his body. He's distracted, probably, by the hot, feverish way his skin is, pulsing where Phil had laid into it, lavished his focus and attention until Dan's body turned pink and sore beneath him. 

Phil is the only one that can do that for him, Dan has told him before now, but it’s Dan that allows him to do it. Phil feels the privilege of that, the responsibility of it, and he pulls his hand away, Dan thrusting aimlessly, trying to chase it. 

"Patience," Phil tells him, his hand back to the small of Dan's back. 

Dan visibly shudders when he hears Phil uncap the lube. It cracks in the otherwise silent room, squelching as he squeezes it where the contents are running low. He makes a mental note of it, something to be done after, and turns his attention back to Dan.

Dan relaxes, a couple deep breaths as he struggles to spread his legs where they’re confined by the boxers still at the bend of his knees. Phil tugs at the waistband with one hand, easing them all the way off. Dan sighs, spreading his legs further. Phil puts his slick hand at the crack, rubbing smoothly over the rim, admiring the dusty pink colour. Dan breathes a string of pretty whines as Phil teases his index finger inside. It goes easily. The tension in Dan’s body from before is almost fully gone now.

Phil keeps the finger inside, wiggling it a little bit before he pulls back and pushes back inside. He grabs the bottle of lube, squeezing it hard to sputter out some more over his finger. He pushes all the way out, gathering it at the tip to get all of it inside of him.

“How do you want it today?” Phil asks gently, pushing a second finger along the first.

Dan inhales hard. Phil smiles down at him. Dan looks up, their eyes meet. The chocolate browns are glassy, cast over by the absence of the sharp stings of emotions he’s been struggling with lately. The muscles on Dan’s face have gone almost completely slack.

“Phil,” he mumbles, blinking pretty, pink lips darkened to red.

"Yes?" Phil says, moving his fingers torturously slow. 

He knows Dan hates to be patient. What he wants is for Phil to get on with it, to overwhelm him with sensation so much that he can no longer think. But Phil knows better. 

He knows that to unravel Dan completely you need time, you need to make him ask for the things that he wants, to slow down and take a breath and focus all of his considerable brain power on working through this, here, rather than the things in his head. 

Overwhelming him works in the short term, but Phil wants to bring him down completely. 

"More," Dan says, pushing back onto Phil's fingers. 

Phil curls his digits up, moving them inside Dan's body with practised ease, and he's rewarded with a loud whorish moan tumbling from Dan's mouth. He continues with his slow, deliberate thrusts. Feeling the silky insides of Dan clench pull at him, his thumb swipes against a patch of deep pink on his arse cheek, pressing down so that Dan can feel the burn of it, a reminder that it's still there. 

Dan whines now, and bucks, and Phil knows that he's taken him as far as he can. Dan is beyond the use of words, his body rocking, begging without a single syllable for Phil to take him. 

“Yeah, you’re ready,” Phil says mostly to himself, eyes travelling from where his fingers are pushed snug inside him, over his back, then up at his face. 

Dan’s eyes close as Phil pulls his fingers all the way out. The puckered skin of his rim flutters ever so slightly at the loss. Phil can feel it all the way down from his toes, the urgency he’s ignored while taking his time with Dan. It thunders inside of him now, his cock straining at the sight before him while he shifts to stand on his knees behind Dan.

He unzips his jeans and pulls them off along with his boxers and tosses them to the floor. He positions himself behind him and stares down. He looks at the way Dan arches and puts his hands on either cheek, pulling them apart just to admire the sight. A groan comes out from deep within his chest, dark and lustful, as he puts one hand on his cock to align it with Dan’s hole. He pushes the head at the closing hole, a teasing little push. Dan doesn’t push back, though his tensing muscles and quickening breath clearly reveal how much he wants to.

“Easy now,” Phil says, voice gruff as he feels a rush in his chest when he pushes in a bit more. “Relax for me.”

“Phil, please,” Dan practically sobs, body trembling.

Phil puts a hand at the small of his back, gentle and warm. Dan goes still.

The first thrust into Dan is heaven. He's tight, and waiting, and Phil slides in to that easy, willing space in one smooth motion. His hips knock against the pink, abused skin of Dan's ass and Dan flinches, just the tiniest bit, from the shock of pain. 

"I've got you," Phil reminds him. "Always." 

"Yeah," Dan hums, "yeah. Yeah." 

He's babbling, words falling from him in a jumbled mess and it's too much for Phil to take. He wants to go slow, to tease this out for a little bit longer but his restraint is breaking. 

"Oh," Phil breathes, rocking his hips into Dan, his cock catching on Dan's rim as he pulls out and then slides back in just as easy as before. "You're perfect, Dan. You're always so fucking perfect." 

Dan whines, and Phil picks up speed. He drives into Dan with all the force that they both want, Dan's body moving underneath him, pushing back against him but falling away as soon as Phil applies just the tiniest bit of force. 

The slick, wet sound of their bodies coming together is all that can be heard under the soft moans in Dan's throat and the odd grunt that Phil lets slip. Their bodies work like this, in tune and in sync in the way that they always are but elevated to a level neither of them can fathom. 

It's always been like this, even right in the beginning when a lack of experience was compensated for by a little too much enthusiasm. They'd made mistakes sometimes, pushed too far, or not far enough, in the way that Phil supposes it always must be. But there had been a harmony, their bodies singing at a melody fit for each other so that all they had to do was find the right key. 

When they found it, it was like the whole fucking orchestra. 

Dan pushes back in time with Phil’s hips and Phil is too far gone to stop it. He wraps his hands around the bones of Dan’s hips on either side and squeezes hard, just a touch of fingernails digging into the flesh. Dan whines gratefully and Phil stares almost stunned at the sight of his cock disappearing inside of him, time and time again at a still leisurely pace.

“Touch me,” Dan breathes. “I’m gonna come, Phil--”

Phil strikes a hand on the side of Dan’s buttcheek, quick and hard and impulsive, a practiced reprimand.

“Please,” Dan chokes through gritted teeth, aware of what he’d done wrong. “Please, touch me.”

He sounds smaller now, words melting into helpless whines. Phil bends over at that, chest and stomach aligning with Dan’s back as he positions his feet to stand on top of the bed. With bended knees the change of position allows him to fuck into him deeply with more force.

“Oh, yes,” Dan chants when Phil thrusts balls deep inside of him. “Oh… _God_.”

Phil wraps his arms around Dan’s chest, chin tucked up on Dan’s shoulder. He turns his head, and his sweaty forehead pushes against Dan’s. He moves slowly inside of him, evenly, every squeeze of Dan around him creating sparks that burst inside. He purposely goes heavy on top of Dan, forcing him to take his weight. It’s filthy, sweat causing Phil’s chest to slide on top of Dan’s back as he moves his hips. Still, the close proximity of their mouths makes Phil’s heart clench with the intimacy of the moment. Completely at his mercy, Dan inhales a staccato rhythm of breaths as Phil pushes into him, going harder with every thrust. Their skin slap together, creating a lovely harsh noise every time.

Phil tracks the pads of his fingertips over Dan’s hard nipples, and Dan whines hard, bucking back at Phil.

“Ah,” he hisses, as if he’s in pain.

Phil rubs the side of his nose along Dan’s, swallowing the noise into his mouth.

“Beautiful,” Phil murmurs.

He can feel the wet on Dan’s cheeks and he knows it isn’t sweat. He pushes deep inside, holding still, just feeling Dan clench around him.

“Please,” Dan begs against his mouth.

“Words, Dan,” Phil breathes, voiceless, between kisses. “Where do you want me to touch?”

Dan sobs, so far gone and perfect for him.

“M-my,” he whines, clearing his throat to steady his voice. “My cock. Please, Phil. Touch my cock. I need to come, I need to-”

“Shh.”

Phil’s hand skates downwards, to the line of hair below his belly button.

“Good boy,” Phil whispers, molding their lips together softly as he wraps his hand around Dan’s impossibly hard cock.

He is hot and slick in Phil's hand, forced through the circle of his fingers with the movement of Phil's thrusts. 

"Ah," Dan sighs, loud relief occupying his entire body as he sinks into the sensation of Phil's hand on him. 

It's what he's been waiting for, begging for, and Phil thinks he's been so good and so patient that he deserve this. Phil is going to give him everything he wants. 

He tightens his grip on the upstroke, pinching over the tip of Dan's cock in the way that he likes, twisting his wrist just to hear him gasp. Phil's own release is building now, the tight grip of Dan's body, the sound of his moans, it mingles together, coiling in his belly, sending him breathless. 

"That's it," Phil says, "come for me." 

Dan's eyes are squeezed shut, his throat bobs as he swallows, and there is hard huff of breath out of his nose. Phil feels it a second or two before it happens. Dan's body clenches around him, his trembling thighs stilling again Phil's hands. He spills hot and wet over Phil's fingers, messy and glorious, dousing their bedsheets. Phil works him through it, pumping his hand, even as he never stops thrusting into Dan's willing body, over and over. He works Dan through his orgasm and selfishly pushes towards his own. 

Dan slumps when it's over, his weight collapsing under Phil's but Phil following him down, still driving into his body. 

"Keep going," Dan mumbles into the mattress, "I want to… want to feel it." 

Phil doesn't admonish him for asking, nor does he think about ignoring his plea. Instead, he places his hands either side of Dan's head, lifting himself up along the full length of him. Dan's legs part eagerly, even fucked out and sloppy, he still wants Phil, is still intent on pleasing him. 

Phil pushes his teeth into Dan’s shoulder and revels at the sensation of goosebumps spreading beneath his palms, flat on top of Dan’s chest, slick and filthy. Another hiss escapes Dan as Phil picks up the pace of his thrusts. The smooth tightness around him clenches as Dan teeters at the edge of oversensitivity, but Phil is too close to coming to really think about it. Dan cries out, sharp and beautiful. Phil holds him ever closer, almost squeezing the breath out of him as he fucks him unapologetically. Dan wants to be used, so Phil is going to use him. Just like the good little toy that he is.

“Phil,” Dan gasps, pushing down, almost sitting on Phil’s cock.

“Fuck, you feel good,” Phil praises, hips going even faster. “ _Fuck_ , Dan.”

“Unh,” Dan sighs, head falling back against Phil’s shoulder.

Phil pulls back at that. His cock slips out accidentally but as he watches the perfect blushing skin of Dan’s back he can’t help himself. He pushes his hands on his back, pushing him down hard on top of the bed. He wraps a hand around himself, quickly aligning his cock to push back inside.

“You want to feel it?” Phil asks, voice edging on threatening. “That’s what you want?”

“Yes,” Dan replies, muffled against the mattress.

“Then fucking feel it.”

Phil puts his hands on the back of Dan’s head, levelling his weight onto it as he fucks into him with quick ease. He’s about to come, he can feel his balls tighten and his movements stutter as indication. He weighs down harder on Dan, revelling in the muffled pained sounds coming from him and Phil snaps.

It’s like a waterfall of sensation cascading his insides, once he finally spills deep inside of Dan’s tight little hole. Phil loses his breath, vision blurring as he inhales the air back into his lungs and his hips start moving again after the momentary pause, riding out the orgasm.

He's boneless as he pulls out. He flops down onto the bed beside Dan, only an ankle crossing over the back of Dan's calf. 

They breath together, both of them coming down, back to the ground, a little lighter, more even. Phil reaches over and pulls gently at the knot of the black silk. It slides free, stroking along Dan's wrists as it does. 

There is barely a mark. They use this precisely because it doesn't leave any permanent or lingering effects afterwards. Dan lets his arms flop down to his sides before bringing one wrist up to inspect. 

He seems satisfied with what he finds and drops his forehead down onto it.

"Fuck," Phil says. 

Dan blinks, a soft, sleepy smile on his face, blissed out and serene. 

"You okay?" Phil asks, lifting a leaden arm to run fingers through Dan's hair. It's sweaty, clinging to his forehead in tight swirls, Phil lifts one up to curl around his fingertip. 

"Hm," Dan says. 

Phil chuckles at him, "Use your words," he teases. 

"M'good," Dan says, "really good." 

"Do you think you wanna get up?" Phil asks. 

He's aware of how tired Dan looks, how soft and small against the heathered grey of their bedding. He's tempted to let him lie here, but he's already spent so much time bundled away in this tiny, dark room, that Phil wants to bring him into the light. 

"In a minute," Dan says. 

Phil nods, even those Dan's eyes are half lidded so he can't be sure if he even sees. He continues petting at Dan's hair, listening to the sussarant rise and fall of his breathing. After about five minutes, Dan's warm skin radiating heat all along Phil's side, Dan stirs. 

"Mm," he hums, "I'm up." 

"Sure," Phil laughs, "of course you are." 

Dan's eyes flutter open, wide brown irises staring at him intently. "No," he says, "I am." 

"Well, good. Hi." 

"Hi." 

"I love you," Phil says. 

Dan doesn't need a reminder, it's not as if Phil ever really goes a day without telling Dan just how deep his affection runs, but Dan is close and warm and lovely, and the words spring from him anyway. 

"I love you too," Dan says. His voice is so earnest, his eyes so wide and sincere that Phil feels a little choked up. 

"Up," Phil says, rolling away, pivoting himself off the bed. 

He keeps an eye on Dan, the corner of his eyes always in his direction as Phil pulls on clothes and watches Dan do the same.

"T-shirt?" Dan asks. 

Phil shrugs. He has no idea where it was thrown, and with Dan standing there, shirtless and bathed in early afternoon light, he isn't inclined to find it anyway. 

Dan slides open his drawer and fishes out a old, worn cream coloured t-shirt and slides it over his head. It fall in a delicate wave over his chest, the slightly stretched collar reveal his collar bones. 

"Shower," Dan says, smiling, calm and happy. He looks looser, like the weight of the day has lifted, and each of his muscles has unfurled, tension gone. 

"Wait," Phil says and Dan crosses the room into a patch of orange, pattern light. It falls in squares of amber against a white wall and Dan looks golden, beautiful. 

"What?" Dan says. 

"Hold still." 

Phil reaches into his pocket, fishing for his phone as Dan does as he is told. He tilts his neck just so, exposing his throat. 

"What are you doing?" he asks, quietly. 

"I'm taking your picture."

"Why?" 

Phil walks closer, standing so that his silhouette isn't visible, so that Dan is framed in glorious, fading light. As he watches Dan through the screen of his phone he stops himself. He puts the phone down, stepping into Dan’s space. Dan looks up at him, eyes glassy, as Phil puts a hand on the back of his head and pushes his lips to Dan’s forehead. He holds it for a a little while, letting his eyes close as his body nearly trembles with the affection he feels for him in this moment. Dan makes a small noise, hands reaching aimless at Phil’s bare chest.

"So you remember what it's like to feel like this," Phil says once he pulls back. "So you can see you like I see you." 

Dan raises a mildly confused eyebrow but it settles quickly and he nods, seeming to agree with the sentiment, eager hands pulling back from Phil’s chest.

Phil steps back, finding that perfect strip of light over Dan’s face again. He positions himself in a few different ways, each pose and expression more beautiful than the next. Phil keeps pressing the shutter, keeps capturing every perfect moment again and again. He looks up at Dan between shots, their eyes meeting in mutual love and understanding. When he's finished, he drops the pictures into a text message and sends it to Dan's phone. 

Across the room, on his bedside table, it vibrates. 

Dan won't be all better again after this. He's still liable to overthink his journey, get trussed up in the confines of his own expectations for himself, but this is a welcome distraction. Phil has pulled him out of the dark today, let him see the light and stand in it for a short while, but it will take some more time before he can walk out of it completely. 

Phil can't help him with that, it isn't Phil's weight to bear, but he can be there to support him.

"Shower now," Phil says. 

Dan nods, and does as he is told.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, you can find us on Tumblr below:
> 
> [jestbee](http://jestbee.tumblr.com)  
> [intoapuddle](http://intoapuddle.tumblr.com)
> 
> And if you would like to reblog this fic to share it with others, you can find it [here](http://jestbee.tumblr.com/post/184364809607/picture-imperfect)


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